


starry-eyed

by gnarlyquinn



Category: Little Witch Academia
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, this is definitely very diana/akko but also very diana-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-09
Updated: 2018-08-09
Packaged: 2019-06-24 11:25:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15629730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gnarlyquinn/pseuds/gnarlyquinn
Summary: Akko burned like a star and Diana would personally be the one to smear the sparkling Milky Way over their eyes to make them see that her chest cavity was a galaxy, and when the night sky was ready to burst from her it would dazzle the cosmos with a shower of light this world did not even deserve.





	starry-eyed

For a person who regarded tradition with utmost importance, Diana was not a girl to dwell on the past. She held fiercely to passed down practices of magic and their origins and history, but she didn’t make it a habit to burden herself with events she could not change. 

As such, for the sake of her own preservation, she left little room within her to miss her mother. She expended little of herself to face the traumatic, loveless years bestowed upon her by Aunt Daryl and her cousins. It wouldn’t do to allow an ache that could not be soothed to take up residence while she bore the imposing weight of many other responsibilities and ambitions. Simply put, on an ordinary day, she didn’t afford herself the time or the energy to grieve. 

And grief, as little as she had allowed it to touch her, was without an end or a linear route. It ebbed and pulsed with unpredictable ripples of anguish and it was that there was no conclusion to this unbearable feeling which guided her to the decision to simply purge it from a young age. The only antidote for missing her mother would be for her to come back, and since such a thing was impossible, the next best solution was to distance herself from it. She’d planted the seed then. 

When she’d returned from home with Akko all those months ago, despite her failure to claim her place as head of the Cavendish name, she’d felt oddly at peace. Perhaps Akko’s brazen experience with failure and her endless grace in refusing to give into it was able to help Diana face it less harshly, because Akko wore her failures like jewelry, bright and dazzling and proud, something to grow from, and Diana had only ever worn them as lumbering shackles (and, consequently, she made a dedicated habit out of meeting them quite infrequently). 

(But there had always been a twinkle in Akko’s eye that sparked the sort of flames to chase down the pages of her own destiny, to burn them up and rewrite them with the ashes of the book itself).

Perhaps fate had been kind to Diana this once and handed her a victory disguised in defeat. Her heart was in Luna Nova and she’d been devastated to leave it. She’d even seen the beginning posts of a bridge being built between herself and Aunt Daryl - one she wasn’t ever sure she’d cross, but it was something that hadn’t been there before.

Before returning to school, she’d packed with her the small stuffed bear given to her by her mother when she was young. It had been a purposeful decision to leave it behind when she’d initially enrolled at Luna Nova—she was growing into a young woman, and a Cavendish at that—and had no use for a teddy bear. Had no use for sorrow packaged into a stuffed animal to stare her in the face. Something had made her bring it along this time around and as she and Akko took to a sky heavy with stars to fly back to Luna Nova, she’d warmly found that it weighed no more in her small pack than if she’d left it behind. 

Akko, in all her wild, reckless, uninhibited beauty, had seemed to aid Diana in understanding herself and the world around her more than she’d ever been able to before. 

Diana pulled open the top drawer of her nightstand and lifted the stuffed bear out of it, running her thumb along the worn fabric of its face. It was her mother’s birthday today. She’d been gone just over ten years.

She allowed herself, for long moments, to sink into the memory of the day she’d been given this bear. Christmas Eve when she was four years old, she’d been allowed to open one gift before all the others the following morning. She could feel the warmth of the fireplace and see the firelight in her mother’s kind eyes as she watched Diana carefully unravel the ribbon that cinched the snowman covered wrapping paper around a simple teddy bear. Her own squeal of delight and her mother’s laughter like the Christmas bells themselves.

A small, sad smile pulled at her lips and tears welled heavily in her eyes as she lost herself in the bear’s blank gaze.

Her mother’s death had draped her in layers and buried her. The seed she’d planted years ago had been nourished all this time by her unwillingness to face the devastating heartbreak of loss and she was hardly able to bear the load of her own grief, an emaciated tree weighed down by its own fruit.

Surprise tore her out of her memory when tears rolled down her cheeks and gathered at her chin. As she lifted her arm to wipe it away with her sleeve, she felt eyes on her. The bear fell soundlessly into her lap.

“Akko…?” she said, breathless and eyes wide with surprise.

Embarrassment crawled up her spine with claw-capped fingers, sinking deeply into her shoulders.

Akko stood around the corner from her bookcase, reflecting Diana’s shock, eyes wide and mouth downturned with a small bit of space between her parted lips. 

“Diana—I— er, um, _I’m sorry_ , I should have knocked,” she pressed the heel of her palm against her forehead with her eyes squeezed tight in shame. “I know you’ve asked me to knock a thousand times, it’s just the door was unlocked and no one had seen you all day and—” she paused in her sheepish rambling to lower her hand from her face and once again take in the tear tracks shining on Diana’s face. “Diana, what’s wrong? Are you all right?”

Diana observed Akko a moment longer; the off-center topknot in her hair, the open concern and kindness in her large eyes, the criss-crossed bandage over her left cheek and a blooming bruise on her forehead, both of which hadn’t been there when Diana had seen her the night before ( _honestly,_ Akko couldn’t be left to her own devices for any amount of time), her charmingly too-short skirt for Luna Nova’s policies (which Diana had chided her for on multiple occasions), the way she looked out of breath like she’d run all the way here. 

The roots of grief gripped tightly to her heart as it swelled with affection for the girl in front of her and she smiled, closing her eyes ineffectually against the sudden rush of tears. 

No one had seen her cry since she’d been a small child. Still, she let the tears come. Diana was not going to shut out Akko from pieces of her (in truth, she was too presently exhausted to try) if she was to expect any sort of genuity out of the bond between them. She was not going to fruitlessly try and extinguish parts of herself that were real and needed attention and recognition because she couldn’t will away her grief any more than she could will away her love for Akko. In that, she was resolute.

Akko had crossed the room to kneel on Diana’s bed with one knee, the other leg grounded to the floor. She touched a calloused hand to Diana’s face, almost shyly, her brows pulled together as if she were in pain. Her thumb swiped at Diana’s tears and her eyes nervously tracked back and forth over Diana’s face. 

Diana couldn’t bring herself to provide Akko with an explanation despite her desire to siphon the confused and wounded expression from Akko’s face. The tears were coming too quickly and she could hardly draw breath fast enough to properly inflate her lungs, let alone speak. 

Akko seemed to understand, in some way or another, and crawled fully onto Diana’s bed on her knees and wrapped her arms around her, settling one hand against the back of Diana’s neck and tangling her fingers in her hair. She rested her chin against the top of Diana’s head and held her.

She felt Akko’s lips press against the crown of her head. For the first time since her mother had died, she let the branches snap and let the fruit fall. Diana released the tension in her body and allowed Akko to hold her upright as she wept against her throat.

Time passed as though she were floating suspended in space, her ears clogged and her own weeping muffled and far away. Cries flowed from her mouth like blood from a wound. She was entirely lost within this moment and this feeling and it was the most in touch with herself she’d felt since she was able to regain her use of magic. It split her open and coursed through her, hot and blinding.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you,” she heard Akko murmur into her hair as one of her hands rubbed soothing circles into Diana’s back and Diana grasped her shirt ever tighter, tethering herself to Akko physically as much as she felt connected to her emotionally—magically, even. Ever since their combined accomplishment of destroying Croix’s missile, her magic reacted to Akko’s in a way that she welcomed and cherished. 

Eventually, Diana began to quiet and her sobs against Akko’s skin slowly faded into deep, shaking breaths. She drew air into her lungs, then released it, focusing on that simple task and the warmth of Akko that surrounded her. Nothing like the necessary discomfort that blazed beneath her skin. Akko brought a sense of calm, a sense of safety, that she reveled in. She could feel the gentle hum of Akko’s magic, that which was usually crackling and untamed, and the steady beating of her pulse in her neck.

She apprehensively awaited the barrage of questions that she’d come to expect from Akko. The only sounds between the two of them were of Diana’s and Akko’s breathing, though Akko’s was much quieter. Silence began to bury her like a wet and heavy snow, the kind of stillness so loud that it rings the ears, and a sudden anxiety rose shamefully in Diana’s throat. She was unsure of how to face Akko once she’d recovered from her display.

Her renewed tension must have been obvious because Akko brought her lips to Diana’s ear and cooed a gentle reassurance again, the hand at Diana’s neck moving to the back of her head now to massage her scalp. It made Diana’s eyes droop and she felt entirely like melting against Akko and never leaving.

“Diana,” Akko whispered, her voice gentle. “Do you wanna lie down?”

It took a great effort, but Diana took a moment to sit back and wipe at her eyes, warring with the temptation to berate herself for her behavior and apologize to Akko. She turned her gaze upward and was surprised to find quiet tears on Akko’s face. 

“Oh, Akko,” Diana murmured, cradling Akko’s face in her hands and thumbing her cheeks, careful to avoid the bandages on the left side.

“I-I’m fine! Really!” Akko leaned her head back and out of Diana’s grasp with an awkward chuckle and gave her own nose a cursory wipe on her sleeve before bringing her hands to circle around Diana’s wrists. “I just don’t like to see you upset, that’s all, this is definitely not about me right now.” Her face sobered and she slipped her hold of Diana’s wrists to tangle their fingers together instead and rested their hands over their laps. “Do you want to talk about it? Or...we could just take a nap. I could make you some hot tea. Or if you’d like me to leave, I can do that, too. I did kind of barge in here…” she trailed off, looking down.

“Please, don’t leave,” Diana answered quickly, squeezing Akko’s hands. She collected herself for a moment and continued, more slowly. “I’d really prefer it if you stayed.”

Akko nodded, a look of determination on her face as she made to stand. “I’ll make some tea and we can just relax. Because we all know that’s something you don’t do enough of.”

Diana held fast to Akko’s hands, keeping her in place, her gaze off to the side.

“I’d really prefer it if—” Diana repeated, bringing herself to face Akko. “If you stayed. Right here.”

“Oh,” Akko faltered a bit, though it seemed to be out of surprise rather than anything else, then nodded again. “Yeah. Okay.”

She scooted up the mattress to recline against the pillows, pulling Diana along with her to rest her head on Akko’s chest. Just as Diana laid against her, she heard Akko let out a soft ‘ _oh_ ’ and lean over the side of the bed. Diana lifted herself onto an elbow to give her the room to move and Akko came back with the teddy bear in her hand.

“This little guy fell off the bed, I don’t think he’s supposed to be on the floor,” she said with a smile, offering him back to Diana.

She stared at it, momentarily at a loss. Then, she gently took him from Akko’s grasp.

“You don’t think it’s childish to have a teddy bear?”

“ _Psh_ , no way,” Akko waved off the thought as if it were ridiculous. “I bet you’ve had him for a long time, huh?”

Diana settled her cheek back against Akko’s chest, holding her bear between the two of them with one arm, the other winding loosely around Akko’s waist.

“My mother gave him to me.”

Akko’s hand flattened against Diana’s lower back, her gaze fixed on the ceiling. 

“What’s his name?” she asked. When Diana remained silent for just a tad too long, she continued. “Aw, come on, don’t tell me you never named him!”

Diana pressed her face indignantly into Akko’s chest.

Sharing this with Akko felt alleviating and heavy all at once and it felt important. Diana propped open the cellar doors of her ribs and their rusty hinges creaked and wobbled, and her heart choked on the smoke that rose out of her throat because she was burning those pages up, burning them up to rewrite them, ash and Akko’s name on her fingertips.

“I miss her, Akko,” she whispered. 

Akko was quiet for a long while.

“It’s not really fair, is it?” she eventually said, her voice small. “Someone like you, you know, you deserve the whole world. Every single star in the sky. You’re really talented, just like they say, but I know you work hard for it. I know you don’t sleep very much and I know you stretch yourself thin and I know that you’re so amazing and an incredible witch, but I also know you’re human,” her voice began to tremble. “Everyone seems to think you’re this untouchable force of nature, and I’ll admit I used to think that, too, but you hurt just like the rest of us. I never knew, until I followed you home that night and said all of those awful things to you. I thought your life had been easy, that things were handed to you and that you couldn’t possibly understand what it was like to suffer. When Anna told me about your mom…” Akko shook her head above her, like she was trying to unscramble the words in her head. “You can miss her and I _know_ it hurts. You can _let_ it hurt.”

Diana suddenly felt ridiculous for ever feeling as though she should be ashamed to let Akko witness the reality of her. 

“Rupert,” she whispered, clinging more tightly to the bear cradled in her elbow. “I called him Rupert.”

Akko laughed, a watery sound that was equal parts joy and sorrow.

“Rupert,” she echoed. “That’s just like you to name him that,” she touched one of his fraying ears. “It suits him.”

Diana was overwhelmed by an urgency in which she couldn’t possibly get close enough to Akko. There was nearly always an earthy smell to her, no doubt due to her ceaseless endeavors into forbidden forests and the like (and perhaps even her tendency to spend large amounts of time with a witch like Sucy), and Diana had come to find it very soothing. She allowed it to lull her while Akko played with her hair in the quiet of her room. 

“When I was young, I had this foolish thought that I could bring her back if I became a good enough witch,” she murmured, her eyes still closed. “Once I learned that was impossible, I wanted to give up my studies. I was devastated all over again. But I loved magic far too much and my mother loved it, too. It was one of the only things left in the world that made me feel as though I had a connection to her. Not to mention I was a Cavendish, and certain things were already written out for me.”

Diana couldn’t see it, but she could almost feel Akko make a face.

“Cavendish or not, you should be able to do whatever you want,” she said sourly. Then, her voice went soft. “But I’m glad magic ended up being what you wanted.”

Diana allowed herself a small smile.

“Me too.”

Some of the teasing toward Akko had let up since the Missile Crisis, but it hadn’t evaporated entirely. Diana had a difficult time coming to terms with the fact that she had once been among them. Akko burned like a star and Diana would personally be the one to smear the sparkling Milky Way over their eyes to make them see that her chest cavity was a galaxy, and when the night sky was ready to burst from her it would dazzle the cosmos with a shower of light this world did not even deserve. 

“My mother would have loved you, I’m certain,” Diana thought aloud. “She would have told me I’ve gotten too serious and to be more like you.”

“You think so?” Akko asked with genuine surprise and wonder. As though she were in awe at the thought.

“Mm,” Diana affirmed. “She was a dedicated woman in everything she did, but not quite so...severe.”

“Aw, Diana, you’re not severe,” Akko cooed. “I know you like cuddles and being the little spoon and that little spot under your ear makes you all—”

“ _Akko_ ,” Diana hissed, heat in her cheeks.

Akko laughed and the wonderful sound of it was nearly worth Diana’s own embarrassment.

“You have a lot of expectations thrown on you, half the time from people you don’t even know. I get why you’re the way you are. It took me some time to understand it and I’m still learning about you every day, but I get it and I wouldn’t want any of you to change,” Akko said softly. “I feel closer to you all the time.”

Diana had expected to feel weighed down with shame, burned out and unwilling to dare show Akko her face again after uncoiling years of pent up grief, frustration, and heartache. Instead, she felt as though a leyline had been formed between the two of them that no one else could see, a living vein of magic only they could conduct.

Diana propped herself up on her elbows so that she could see Akko’s face and offered her a warm smile.

“Thank you, Akko,” she said lowly, bumping their noses affectionately.

Akko returned her smile and Diana couldn’t help herself; she stole a chaste kiss. When she pulled away, Akko tried to follow her mouth, eyes still closed. She blinked open one eye, a light blush of embarrassment on her cheeks and Diana could never be too charmed by the smallest things Akko did.

“Tell me more about what she was like,” Akko prompted, that spark of wonder in her voice. 

Diana felt a swell of pride and love and in the hazy afternoon of her mother’s birthday, she realized the greatest honor she could do her was to carry on her kindness and her strength. She wouldn’t lock her up any longer.

“All right,” she began.

 

* * *

 

Most of the afternoon had melted away, the sun low in the sky. It felt as though this morning had been long ago and Diana was endlessly thankful Akko had barreled into her room. They’d spent the time getting Akko acquainted with Diana’s mother and, as always, she’d been crammed with questions and had prompted story after story out of Diana. Some had even been ones she thought she’d forgotten, plucked deeply out of her memory by a phrase or question given by Akko.

It had been lovely.

They’d moved out onto the balcony of Diana’s dorm room, enjoying the glowing image of the setting sun. Diana’s arms were propped on the railing, crossed over one another, with Akko’s head leaning against her shoulder, content.

Diana was suddenly struck with a thought.

“Akko,” she questioned and Akko hummed in response. “What was it that you originally came here to get me for?”

“Hm?” Akko lifted her head from her shoulder. “Oh, I was going to try flying again! For real this time, from the New Moon Tower!”

Diana felt her blood pressure raise at the thought of Akko attempting flight from any distance higher than a picnic table and her eyes widened in panic.

“All by yourself?”

“Well, not really by myself. Red team and green team were going to come watch,” she scratched absently at her cheek. “I think even Hanna and Barbara were going to show up. Probably just to watch me fail,” she soured. “Which I won’t!”

Akko hitched herself up onto the railing with her back to the sunset, a look of confidence on her face. Diana immediately reached for one of her wrists with both hands out of fear of her falling off.

“Akko, _please_ ,” she said, exasperated. 

Akko waved her off with her free hand, swinging her legs.

“Anyway, I —”

“ _Akko_ , please, come down. Might I remind you that you somehow managed to incur multiple injuries in the small amount of time we were separated between last night and this morning,” she eyed Akko’s bandaged cheek. “And those are just the ones I can see.” 

Akko deflated.

“Oh, fine,” she swung her legs forward and propelled herself a little too far, bumping into Diana as she landed back down on her feet, who caught her by the elbows. “But anyways, I can do that anytime. We’d even have all day tomorrow, it’s only Saturday. I can ask everyone at dinner, since I seem to perform better with an audience,” she said, cheeky.

Diana didn’t bother reminding Akko she shouldn’t have _all day_ to be messing about on a broom when there were exams to study for. Flying was important, especially important to Akko after the truth had been shed about Chariot.

“That seems to be true,” Diana said, amused. She thought of the Samhain festival and the one of many miracles Akko had worked that night. “We should get going, everyone’s been waiting for you.”

“Wha—? We don’t have to go now, I’m happy to just be here with you. Like I said, there’s plenty of time for that later. I’d rather do what you want to do today.”

Diana kissed her uninjured cheek and made for the door of the balcony, turning back toward Akko.

“Let’s see you fly, Atsuko.”

It took a moment for Akko to catch up and accept Diana’s words, but determination settled over her face and she pumped her fists, running after Diana and surpassing her out the door, laughter on her lips.

Before they left her room, Diana cast a look behind her and noted in between the slowly closing space of her doorway that Akko had propped Rupert up against her pillows.

**Author's Note:**

> This was honestly self-indulgent (then again, what fic isn't), but I wanted to delve a bit more into the loss and ultimate loneliness Diana has experienced, despite being a generally loved figure by so many. Akko and Diana are an incredibly complementary pair and even though it's a very personal journey for Diana, I think Akko would be one of the only people to help her begin to come to terms with what has happened to her.
> 
> Also, cuddles.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
